


Shadowed Eaves of the Hoennic Future

by Hayato (TheLennyBunny)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Complete, M/M, Pokemon have NAMES JANET, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, Yet again doin my fuckin job, https://bit.ly/2ZEPSl4, title from naming this at 2am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLennyBunny/pseuds/Hayato
Summary: It's been a long five years. There are no torrential rains. No citizens accosted by near-criminal gangs. No near-apocolypses from awakened gods. Hoenn's flourishing.You hate the water.





	Shadowed Eaves of the Hoennic Future

You have, when not counting the ones you take care of around the town, less than twenty pokemon. It's miniscule compared to the boxes of dozens some people boast, the sometimes-hundreds you see of people wanting the achievement of owning every known species at the same time. 

You don't really give a fuck. It's hard enough fitting nine into a two-bedroom house with two people already in it. You live with your group happily enough, sequestered in Verandturf near the cave you once opened up for two lovers. Your mother lives with you still, happy to be closer to your father and cousins. It’s a small, happy little existence.

You never go farther than the Mauville outskirts. You haven’t seen the ocean in five years.

* * *

“Don’t you get tired of the same five towns? Why don’t we go to Slateport, or Mossdeep even-”

“No.”

“Honey-”

You walk out of the kitchen before your mother can finish, probably upsetting her, but you don’t care. She doesn’t  _ get it,  _ despite the fact she used to live in Johto, despite the fact she lived broiled right in the crime explosion of the continent. She grew up used to danger and paranoia, and yet she can’t understand this one little thing.

You shake your head and open the back door, sitting by the pond. Captain is giving you the stinkeye from the edge, only his eyes and fins visible from the water. You throw a stick at him because Swamperts don’t get to judge when they don’t even wear clothes.

Sticking your feet in the pond, you sigh and close your eyes. It’s a nice day. The sun is shining, the wind’s soft yet sweet, there are wingull cawing in the distance. Over in the village square you can hear Peppermint and Caramel playing again, probably dragging in the neighbour kid’s Growlithe. They’ll be there until noon until they come charging at you, begging for food and scraps of Pidgey.

You smile a bit before it falls away and you’re left staring vacantly at the sky, blinking when you need to. Nothing really crosses your mind beyond an encompassing static, blanketing your thoughts until all you can think about is the pulse of your heart, rhythmic, beating one-two one-two and reminding you of tails breaking the waves, massive flippers breaching the water and a chilling five-tone call-

A webbed paw strikes your foot and you scream, scrambling back. Captain watches you patiently as you breathe in and out deliberately slow, holding your chest. When you’re finally calm again he sets his head down on the edge of the pond and closes his eyes, huffing. You scritch between his fins in appreciation.

He’s a good pokemon. You’re glad you picked him.

* * *

Wally is, unsurprisingly, one of the few people to not pester you. 

He visits you often when he isn’t caught up in League business, bringing stories and photos and messages from the friends you made years ago. His Gardevoir and Gallade are on friendly terms with Jerry, despite the Banette being as welcoming as a decrepit house, and your teams tend to spend their time quietly yipping at each other.

“How have you been?” He asks a few days before the Fall Festival. You hum, brushing Miko’s fur. It’s a loaded and not-question, really.

“I think Tama keeps eating my sketchpads,” You say, and he laughs. You two sit near the flowerbed in front of his house and listen to the children play, the sound of the lakes out on the route to Mauville. He stretches at one point and glances at you, bangs almost obscuring the eye.

“Have you considered what I said?”

You snort. You had, because there isn’t much else to do when you’re stuck in such a small place. 

“There’s no one good on the continent, so the Poochyena’s sort of screwed on that front, Wally.” He grimaces and opens his mouth. You pull out your ‘nav and scroll to the list you’d made. “Doctor Aokawa, Sootopolis. Doctor Burns, Mossdeep. Doctor Roe, Mossdeep. Marvell, Unova. Kano, Johto.” You look at him pointedly. He sighs.

“I just want to do something to help. But I don’t know how.”

You shake your head. Some things just can’t be helped, you don’t tell him. You’re pretty sure he already knows your philosophy.

* * *

“I think your Mightyena are trying to eat a Roserade,” Is the first thing Steven says as he lands. 

“Natural selection,” You deadpan, and it gets a snort out of him, so success. While he dismounts you go out to the route and break up the twins and Pecha, making sure they didn’t hurt the Roserade too badly. A few tears of her petals, but nothing bad. They don’t even look guilty as they pant, licking at your arms. Little shits.

Steven and his Skarmory are all settled in once you come back, sitting on your patio all neat, one leg crossed over his knee. You make a point to fall onto the bench and lean your full weight on him, listening to him groan and shove at you.

“How’s helping your father going?” You ask.

“He keeps trying to make me take over already,” He replies, and you grunt in sympathy. Poor man, not able to just play with his rocks. There’s a moment of quiet, you leaning on him and Steven trying to pretend he isn’t trying to slip his arm around you, and then he clears his throat. “I found a group you may like.”

“Mmm?”

“Well, not like,” He amends, “But it may… help you, some.”

You hum, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He looks enthusiastic, but he usually doesn’t tiptoe so much.

“What’s the catch?” You ask, and he silently opens his Nav, flipping to a saved page. It’s a flyer made online, advertising a group for League Champions. Every other month, the final weekend from noon to five, in the Couriway cafe.

In Kalos.

You think of crossing that expanse, looking out and seeing nothing but blue blue blue, miles of nothing no land to keep you safe potential for clouds and waves and tsunamis-

A hand braces against your back and your face is shoved into a double-breasted coat. There’s the sound of something slithering and then Crady is wrapping her vines around your shoulders, humming an off-colour tone.

“No.”

“Please.” He sounds so worried. You flinch. “I’m worried. You’re so isolated, and I won’t push you to talk to me, or to go outside your boundaries, but… I don’t want you to be completely alone.”

“I’m terrified,” You say. Your nails are digging into your hands. Everything’s set in blues and violets now.  
“I know.” He finally slips that arm around you, squeezing. “Please.”

There’s something very, very tired in you. You want to feel better. You want to see your friends again.

* * *

He sends you the information for the group, despite you refusing. It’s run by two people based off in Kanto. You recognise one’s name, if only because Oak had championed pokemon research in his hayday. You don’t the other. They don’t bother with pomp or exaggeration, just listing the meeting place and times and promising privacy.

You wonder how many champions there are for them to organise a group. You wonder what the second catch is, because what’s the point of meeting up? To boast to each other and try to one-up?

You wonder if they would welcome you-

Except it’s a pointless thought, and you immediately shut it out. No point contemplating it.

* * *

Captain won’t stop judging you.

You put him in the box for half a day, and take him out before you sleep unbelievably guilty. The swampert doesn’t hold it against you, long as you two have been together.

You think, as you pet his fins, about how he hasn’t really seen the sea in years, has hovered in all the lakes from here to Fallarbor and not once protested. There’s a sort of shame that fills you, at that. You’d promised Birch that you would take care of him, and here you were doing all your pokemon a disservice.

You… you’re going to visit the Captain and Peeko tomorrow. A small step, tiny but something. Manageable.

* * *

The cup won’t stop shaking in your hands. Briney doesn’t comment on it as he pours his own and chuckles at Peeko chasing Strato around the hut. You can dimly hearing crashing, the caws of marine birds, think of rain and horror-

“Been a while since I’ve seen you!” Briney booms, creaking to his cushion, “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? Last time I saw ye, that Altaria of yours was still a cotton swab!”

“It’d be easier to drag him out of the fridge if he was that small,” You deadpan, and Briney laughs out of his seat at it. He’s delighted listening to you complain about your overgrown pillow and the other little shits in your group.

It’s. Nice.

* * *

You don’t leave Littleroot for a straight week. It’s hard enough leaving your house.

* * *

You wonder how long it would take to reach Kalos.

You stop wondering and take an hour and paint a wild taillow. It chirps at you for the oran berries in your pocket, and you manage to get it to perch on your arm with one. It’s nice. It doesn’t distract you.

* * *

One day, three weeks after Steven gave you the link- not three weeks after he visits because he’s been back multiple times, treating you to sweets and mooching on your wifi- you look in the mirror and realise you… don’t recognise the person there. Your hair is long and unkempt even if it’s clean, your eyes are tired, and there’s a slump you don’t see until you perk up.

The hair is easy to fix, ends trimmed and the length pulled into a tail. The rest… You don’t know. You don’t know how to fix that, you don’t think there’s a one-step way.

You don’t think on it that night, the next, or for the week following.

* * *

There’s a box in your storage you never flip to, never touch. Nothing goes in or out, hasn’t for four years. You think sometimes that what’s inside fills the whole thing, won’t allow for anything else.

The master ball is cold in your hands. You stare at it for a long, long time. What would happen if you destroyed it? Would it explode, release its insides, would everything be destroyed, lost to its inner space, would nature be thrown into flux, water raging and evaporating-

You store the master ball once again. There’s a shake in your hands for hours.

* * *

It is, in the end, Miko. Soft little Miko, curled up next to you during cold snaps and nosing every hand for treats. Miko, who squeaks when you pick her up and absolutely insists on sleeping on your back when you go to bed. Miko, who paws at your bedroom door while you’re curled up on the bed and who you dimly look at, wondering why your chest hurts so much.

You don’t want to be caged anymore. Except you’ve got the lock and key. How do you use them without snapping off the handle?

You go to Rustboro. It’s lit up at night, statues highlighted in white and yellow. The gym is closed, pokecenter and inn bustling. You ignore them and head to Devon Corp, standing tall over the city. It’s a blinding tower, always.

Steven is in his personal office, covered with rocks just like his home, bookshelves lining the walls. He doesn’t have time to react when you storm in and bury yourself in his chest, doesn’t complain about his fancy suit  _ definitely  _ getting wrinkled.

He just holds you. As he always does. 

* * *

Strato keeps trying to preen you while you carefully loop the megastone around his neck. It’d be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. You let him groom your hair while you slip your own on, waiting for the familiar reaction, clouds puffing up and body growing. Soon the Altaria is over twice his original size. He still insists on preening you.

“If we go at a reasonable pace, we’ll be there in about an hour, breaks notwithstanding.” Steven’s pressed neat and prim in one of his suits, a grey number with purple accents because he’s dramatic. He squints at the two of you. “Are you, er-. He is used to riding with people on his back?”

“He flew me home the time I tried to visit Wallace in Sootopolis.”

Steven doesn’t try to argue with that. Hopping on your pokemon, you pause one last time to glance about Fallarbor. It was the closest you could start if you were trying to go north, obviously; a quiet town, mostly blue-collars and retirees. Professor Cosmo’s always kind if you visit.

You kick off without any buildup. There can’t be room for hesitation. 

There’s a split second of rushing air, grey turning to blue and white until it’s all swallowed by fluffy down, feathers choking until you carefully set your head on Strato’s. The wind rushes past your ears, swallowing all noise. You can’t smell anything. No salt, no brine. No sand. You still know its presence.

The first fifteen minutes are spent in a panic attack until you finally just shiver into a daze.

* * *

The first time you land, you spend a good five minutes just laying on the ground, staring at the sky and ignoring the weird looks from passerby. You’re drained, and they can go fuck themselves. Steven certainly doesn’t care, just takes out his ‘nav and skims info on the area, one hand buried in your hair. Isn’t his suit getting dirty?

“The gym leader here dresses like a cowboy,” He says mildly. You sit up to see what the hell he’s talking about and he’s right, the motherfucker’s dressed like some pre-Arceus buckaroo.

“Oh my god.”

“Do you think he has a lasso?”

“ _ No. _ ”

There are  _ definitely  _ some offended glances while you two break down laughing.

* * *

Kiloude is… cool, with a sedate atmosphere. There are locals and tourists alike, and you can see a safari trap off at the edge of the town. It had been easier reaching here than Driftveil, mountains and forests separating Kalos and Unova.

Steven bumps your shoulder as the two of you stand at the train station. He’s got a grin that’s part smarmy and part softness. “Made it.”

You sort of want to punch him. The gooier, mildly numb part of your keeps you from doing that, and instead you call Strato back and let Jerry come out. The little fuck stares at you, then Steven, and gets a giant grin.

He spends the whole ride to Lumiose staring at Steven. Too bad he’s used to his Claydoll.

As he insists on helping you off the train because  _ damn your height _ , it hits you just a little all at once that it’s. Insane that he’s done this much. He didn’t need to look for this sort of thing for you, didn’t need to keep pushing, didn’t need to  _ come  _ with you. But he did. He’s here.

“I love you,” You say, and it’s- sudden, where did that come from, why did you say that you can’t take it back, what would he say-? But Steven only blinks at you, a sort of bemused-amused that curls with fondness.

“I love you too, darling. We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”

You think you missed something.

* * *

There are… more people than you expected in the cafe. You can see from the outside the bustle inside despite the sign in front of the door, reading  _ Closed for a private event! _ It’s written in French and Unitary, which you appreciate.

There’s a moment on the threshold where you hesitate. You can’t help it, even after coming all this way. And Steven, confusing fucking Steven, doesn’t push. Waits, even though he must be tired after everything.

“I don’t think this will fix everything,” You mumble.

“Of course not,” He replies, just as quiet, “But it’s not about fixing everything. I just want to see you  _ happy _ .”

You stare up at him blankly for a moment, process, and take ahold of his tie, gently dragging him down. His lips are soft. He presses back with only a second’s hesitation.

“Are we dating?” You ask when you part, breath hovering in the air between you.

Steven sort of. Squinches. “I’ve given you flowers and berry assortments for the past two Valentine’s.”

You open the door instead of answering him. You can still hear him starting to laugh helplessly behind. There are definitely a lot of people in here, more than you would have expected with only eight official leagues, and a good majority of them pause and look at you when you come in. It makes you freeze in your spot.

What look likes the oldest, a redhead in jeans and a polo- definitely no Sinnoan or Alolan, that was for sure- is the one to step forward, half-aggressive and half-curious.

“Can’t ya read the sign? It’s a private event, buddy.” His eyes flick up and down you, glance at Steven now standing beside. There’s a glint in his eyes you think you know. Recognition. “...The name’s Aoi Oak. Yes, that one.”

A woman in the corner coughs something that sounds like  _ arrogant prick. Aoi Oak, Yes That One  _ spins around and throws his hands up, to which she just smiles prettily and pets the- giant bird next to her, you think it’s an Empoleon?

“Don’t  _ start _ with me, do you  _ want  _ to get trumped again by Ivy-”

Uh.

“I’m, uh, the Hoenn League Champion.” That stops them, eyes turning back to you, and it’s hard not to shrink back. “Former. I sort of. Gave it up.”

“Steven Stone. I was beaten soundly,” He says next to you, and you’ve got to ignore the warmth coming up your collar. There’s a lot you could but can’t focus on. Lips, sweaty hands, nervousness, what’s definitely a thing of Vileplume Vintage on the table, it’s a bit much isn’t it?

“What’s up with you?”

You twitch. “Huh?”

A blond is the one to speak, dressed in smart red and blacks with a rainbow, hexagonal pin on her lapel. She’s cutting into a cake with one hand and points out people with the other, fork in hand.

“Corrupt, violent criminal organisation that controlled the black market. Resurgence of criminal organisation, now paired with extreme endangerment of human life and hostage situations. Nihilist leading a group attempting to literally end the world to create a “paradise”. The same thing, except with much more explicit murder. And megalomaniac trying to segregate humans from nature because fascism.” The blond gives you a chipper, slightly sharp smile. “I’m Serena. What’s up with you?”

…-

“Two ex-boyfriends were ten minutes from destroying the continent because they don’t understand the climate until I captured a god and nearly died.”

There’s a moment where they all consider that. A guy mostly in red grabs the bottle of Vileplume and pours a mug, which you’re pretty sure is disgraceful. You still take it when he hands it to you, and let the redhead guide you two to a couch, and sit down wondering where the hell your life has gone.

“Welcome to the club,” Aoi says solemnly, “How many times have you had to keep from yelling at a civilian for saying they were jealous of you?”

...Though you don’t quite mind the direction it’s taken.


End file.
